KRYMSKE, Ukraine — A yellow school bus, damaged by shrapnel, its driver wearing military fatigues, stops by a crowd of children in brightly colored clothes.
Carrying rucksacks donated by UNICEF, the United Nations’ children’s fund, and big travel bags with clothes and food, children say their goodbyes to tearful relatives, and clamber onto the bus.
It was June 15, and 26 children from the frontline village of Krymske in Luhansk Oblast were heading away from the war zone for two weeks, to a summer camp near Kyiv, some 750 kilometers to the northwest.
But the trip, organized by volunteers, has effectively become an evacuation.
Parents rushed to send their children away due to the escalation in fighting that started in the area two weeks ago.
Surrounded
Located in a picturesque hollow by the Siversky Donets River, government-controlled Krymske is surrounded on three sides by Russian-backed forces.
On June 7 and 8, its 640 residents had to hide in their houses and basements as the village was shelled day and night.
There were no civilian casualties, but three Ukrainian soldiers were killed in fighting in this area, and about a dozen were wounded.
During the fighting, Ukrainian troops from the 93d Mechanized Brigade advanced in some 1.5 kilometers into the gray zone between the two sides’ forward positions, and set up new defenses closer to the enemy.
Since then, the sound of shelling has been heard in the village almost every night.
Standing on a street where most of the houses bear the scars of war, the schoolchildren recalled how bullets were whistling there last week, and how they later collected empty bullet casings in their gardens.
Sisters Lyuba and Sonia Pavlovy, sixth and fifth graders respectively, had to hide in a storeroom together with their grandparents, who are now happy to send the girls away from danger.
Sisters Lyuba and Sonia Pavlovy and their friend Sophia stand by their house in Krymske, Luhansk Oblast. (Anastasia Vlasova)
The sisters were looking forward to their long trip, initially to Lysychansk by bus, and then to Kyiv by train.
“When you’re traveling far there’s enough time to talk and to play cards,” says Lyuba, a tall slim girl with long blonde hair. “We have become good friends after all these trips.”
Over the three years of the war, Lyuba has traveled a half-dozen times with other schoolchildren to different Ukrainian cities to study and have a break in a peaceful area, at least for a few weeks.
Now she and Sonia have packed their suitcases with summer tops, leggings and swimsuits, hoping to sunbathe and swim at their summer camp.
Before the war, they used to often swim in Siversky Donets, which is just a five-minute walk from their garden. But now its highly likely there will be an armored vehicle there, and there is even a chance of being shot. The local sandy river beach has been abandoned, and is now overgrown with grass.
Danger spot
The sisters’ grandfather, Mykola Ivanovych, a former police officer, remembers that at least two local residents of Krymske were killed in an enemy attack with a Grad multiple rocket launcher in the winter of 2014-2015.
Mykola Ivanovych was lucky to survive himself – he was in his yard when two mortar rounds hit his house in January 2015. The family now lives in a smaller building.
Cuddling her cat Murzik, Sonia showed the ragged walls and dusty pieces of furniture in the ruins of the room she used to share with Lyuba.
Located just 1.5 kilometers from enemy lines, Krymske has always been one of the most dangerous spots in the Russian-instigated war. Separatist Cossacks first captured and then lost the village several times in 2014.
At least 14 Ukrainian soldiers have been killed there in fighting over the three years of the war. Russian-backed fighters also shot dead one local pro-Ukrainian man in the yard of his home in the autumn of 2014.
Sasha Lyashchuk, who is now in 10th grade, suffered shell-shock in the embattled village in January 2015. Following the trauma, the boy partly lost his hearing and started stammering.
Now Sasha is feeling better. He hopes that after he graduates from school he will be able to study in Lysychansk to be a car mechanic.
Sasha Lyashchuk, 16, is getting ready for his trip to summer camp. (Anastasia Vlasova)
A day before his departure to the summer camp, Sasha, wearing a serious expression, is busy packing for the journey. His grandmother is helping, putting in his bag new shorts, swimming trunks and warm clothes in case it gets cold in Kyiv.
“Let the child have a rest. He has nothing to do here,” she said sadly.
Landmines
Meanwhile, the residents were worried about the weather.
When it rains the road from Krymske to the rest of government-controlled area becomes almost impassable for civilian transport. In winter, only the military or emergency trucks are able to reach the village, bringing food, medicine, and pensions.
Pensions are the main income source for most of Krymske’s residents. The local farmers lost access to their fields because of landmines that have been planted and military positions located there. Many cows have been killed by stepping on landmines.
The residents of Krymske get their water from wells, as the water pipeline to the village was destroyed back in 2014. Last week, a shell also hit the gas pipes in the gray zone, so there’s little chance the gas supply will be restored anytime soon.
Iryna Bugera, the principal of the local school, said the school bus was badly damaged in the winter of 2015, when Grad rockets hit the yard of its driver’s house, next to which the vehicle had been parked.
But now the driver has recovered and the bus has been mended, and both are still working.
The school bus picks the children up by their houses in the morning, and brings them back in the afternoon, and the children’s parents hope that they will be safer behind the thick walls of the nineteenth century school building, which is located further from the frontline than most of the rest of the village.
The school windows are half covered with bulletproof plating supplied by the International Committee of the Red Cross.
Bugera shows the part of the hall where the schoolchildren take cover when the shelling gets especially close.
“But most of the time we just try not to pay attention to it,” she says.
Anastasia Vlasova contributed reporting to this story.
